


Chasing Ghosts

by denamrknorwy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ghosts, I don't know, M/M, Major Character death?, RoChu Week, Supernatural Elements, what is plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:12:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9554174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denamrknorwy/pseuds/denamrknorwy
Summary: -AU, RoChu week 2017- Ivan Braginsky is a ghost chaser, dedicated to hunting down lingering spirits and exorcising them from the world they don't belong in anymore. Despite the ghost chasers' strict laws against communication with these spirits, he lets one particular young Chinese ghost stay in his apartment, and becomes far too devoted to really consider the rule he's broken.





	1. sino-soviet

**Author's Note:**

> I am late. I know. I am incredibly unorganised on top of being kind of terrified of posting these things so I managed to forget that RoChu week actually started yesterday... sorry.
> 
> Okay, so this story is seven chapters, each with the title of the prompt for the RoChu week day they're (supposed to be) posted on. Some of the links with the titles are a little bit (very) dubious, for example this first one here, but there's nothing I can do about that right now. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> So yeah. Here we go.

For as long as he can remember, Ivan Braginsky has seen ghosts.

First it was the old, battered war veteran that lived in Ivan’s attic - a cold, stoic man whom Ivan only ever knew as General Winter, sulking icily in the furthest corner of the house he could find. Ivan used to try to warm him up, talk to him, but General Winter was never very responsive.

Not many ghosts are, really, but Ivan is fairly certain General Winter was quite high up on the list of least talkative ones. He was an enigma - Ivan never even learned the ghost’s real name, or if he was related to the Braginskys, or anything at all - because the ghost chasers got in there eventually and after that there was no more General Winter.

He had heard of the ghost chasers in passing before, an organisation that removed the overstaying spirits from this world before they could become a problem, but that was his first real interaction with them. Ivan can’t say he was sad, either, when the ghost chasers exorcised General Winter out of the physical world, because ghosts do not belong on this plane of being and he is more than aware of that. Over the years Ivan sees more than one ghost exorcism in his life and none of the ones he witnesses truly upset him.

He knows it’s what needs to happen, so he doesn’t complain.

The exorcism of General Winter did, however, leave Ivan somewhat lacking a familiar ghost to talk to. His house was in a rural area, far from anywhere ghosts generally liked to be, and until Ivan’s older sister went to university he had no choice but to forget about ghosts entirely.

When Katyusha went to university Ivan’s entire family packed up and moved to Moscow to be nearer to her, and the moment Ivan set foot in the city he suddenly saw more ghosts in one day than he’d ever seen in his life. They converged around nursing homes and hospitals, seemingly comforted by the lingering scent of death-

-which is why Ivan found it so strange, meeting a ghost wandering the grounds of Katyusha’s university.

He had been taken to an open evening at the place and had wandered away from his parents out of boredom, looking for something interesting, and in a small courtyard surrounded by frosty little trees he had discovered the ghost of a boy - probably the youngest ghost that fourteen-year-old Ivan had ever seen. It had taken a few seconds for the ghost to figure out that Ivan was aware of him, but after that it did not take long for Ivan to learn that he was the ghost of a student at the university who died on its grounds in the 1960s, beaten to death by his classmates because of his appearance.

The ghost had said he didn’t know whether it was because he resembled a girl or because he was a Chinese student in Russia - Ivan hadn’t been sure which one was worse.

He had sat outside in that cold, dark little quiet courtyard, seemingly talking to nothing, for what felt like hours yet only seconds at the same time, until people came looking for him after noticing that he was missing. The ghost had watched him go, silently staring, and as the rest of the evening went on Ivan had been unable to stop thinking about him.

He became particularly aware of the plaque in the hall, a small, nondescript sign recognising the loss of a student and a friend, Yao Wang.

When he got home he spent much of the following night researching the case - it turned out in the 1960s there was a legal case about what punishment to give the group of college students convicted. It turned out Yao Wang’s family in China were angry because the boys who killed their son and brother were given a punishment that was “not severe enough”.

After that, he didn’t see the ghost of Yao Wang again for years.

He finished school, joined the ghost chaser ranks, exorcised a few old ghosts outstaying their welcome or causing trouble, started university and suddenly there was Yao Wang again. The ghost chaser guild hadn’t caught him yet, Yao said, he was just too good for them, and although the ghost chasers were about exorcism Ivan let Yao stay with him.

Fast-forward through a year of university, a year of all-nighters spent trying to tune out the sound of Yao complaining about another story from his lifetime as he drifts around the room, and suddenly Ivan Braginsky is the ghost chaser that’s desperately in love with a ghost.


	2. snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the mess this story is in advance.
> 
> The "plot" kicks off here, though, so at least that's a bonus?

Ivan crashes rather unceremoniously through the door of his room at a rather ungodly hour of the morning, after spending the night hunting down and losing track of a young American poltergeist causing problems in the area. He is cold and wet from the snow outside - while not being a storm exactly the early winter weather isn’t something to be out in for more than a few hours.

He peels away his coat and shakes snow out of his scarf, fighting against a yawn, quietly muttering under his breath - _stupid poltergeist doesn’t know when to stop_ \- and turns to face the ghost waiting in the middle of the room.

Yao is stood on one leg, perfectly balancing as his foot doesn’t quite touch the ground, with the other leg swung up at an almost 180-degree angle. His arms are folded causally across his chest as though this is something he does a lot.

“Have fun killing ghosts?” he asks.

“No, not really,” Ivan replies.

“Shame.” Yao’s face twitches slightly in some silent observation and he drops the leg he was holding in the air, rising to match Ivan’s height better. He is short, very short - or Ivan is just very tall - and he has expressed gratefulness for ghosts’ immunity to the effects of gravity more than once. “What was so bad about it?”

Ivan shuffles towards his bed and collapses in some kind of heap. “The poltergeist we’ve been after all this time got away again. You know the one, the American ghost that turned up a while ago.”

“Oh, yes - Alfred Jones, right? He’s annoying. I didn’t know he was annoying enough to be classed as _poltergeist_ , though.”

“Well, he is.”

A quick glance at the alarm clock on the desk tells Ivan that the time is nearing four AM - he’s been out chasing Alfred since nine last night and he has classes tomorrow. It’s not something Ivan isn’t used to, though, he signed up for these all-nighters when he signed up to join the ghost chasers. “Wait, how do _you_ know Alfred?” he asks blearily.

“I get around more than you think, clearly.”

Ivan can’t quite see from his position sprawled across his bed, but he thinks Yao is in front of the window facing away from him. He imagines the smile that must be playing at Yao’s lips - he often looks away and hides his face when he smiles. “I didn’t really think you did anything more than sit around here and complain to me.”

“I do a lot more than that, thank you very much.” This time, Ivan can hear the smirk on his words.

There is a quiet pause as Ivan lays silently on his bed, watching Yao’s back as he stares out of the window. It’s funny, he thinks, how Yao leans against the windowsill but doesn’t _lean_ because he can’t touch it - it’s funny how he pretends to be alive sometimes.

“Was it snowing like this when you were out?” Yao asks.

“Yes, and it was cold and wet,” Ivan replies. He frowns as Yao snorts, and they argue back and forth a little until Ivan begins to flag. He glances at the clock again - ten minutes past four AM - and tells Yao that he should probably sleep if he doesn’t want to feel awful come tomorrow morning. Yao nods in understanding and Ivan doesn’t bother changing clothes, just throws his boots across the room before rolling over and diving under his duvet.

He has just settled when the cold chill of the presence of ghosts sinks down beside him, and he opens his eyes to find Yao floating next to him. Yao’s hair is rising around his face as if he were submerged in water - the kind of anti-gravity behaviour that Ivan’s used to, and Ivan lifts a hand to touch it. His fingers phase straight through it, only a frosty shiver runs down his wrist.

“Don’t mind me,” Yao says, “I’ll just be here, not disturbing you.”

“You’re cold,” Ivan replies.

“Oh, does that offend you? I’m terribly sorry.”

Yao shifts to give Ivan a hard look and Ivan grins into his pillow. For a few moments they are quiet, for a few more moments Ivan watches Yao’s hair float gently at his shoulders and occasionally disappear through the pillow, and after a few moments Ivan raises his hand up into the air, fingers spread. Yao holds his own hand up to Ivan’s - but they don’t touch.

Ivan feels the presence of a hand against his, senses it in a space that isn’t quite his own, but it is cold and stony, not like the soft warmth of a living person. He feels it there, sees it there, but if he tries to put pressure on it, it is as if there is nothing there at all - Yao’s hand passes straight through Ivan’s and leaves nothing but a chilling quiet spreading through Ivan’s fingers. Instead of touching, Yao just hovers against Ivan’s fingertips, not quite brushing the skin.

“Let’s go out in the snow tomorrow,” Ivan says.

“I’m not much fun in the snow,” Yao replies. “Just warning you.”

Ivan smiles and turns his hand so that Yao can pretend to lace their fingers together. “I know. I just want to do something kind of normal with you for a change.”

“There’s only so far you can go when _normal_ and _ghosts_ are both involved.” His words don’t display it but Yao’s tone is light, and he is mirroring Ivan’s smile.

“I know,” Ivan repeats.

“Maybe we’ll see Alfred Jones. Maybe you can exorcise him if we do.”

The thought is ridiculous but Ivan agrees anyway, sighing _maybe_ through another yawn. He remembers how early it is in the morning, how little sleep he’s gotten over the past few days, and he lets his hand drop back to his bed. Yao’s soon follows, and soon enough Ivan feels the cold shift as Yao rises and crosses to the other side of the room, to the window again.

“I’ll distract him while you exorcise him,” Yao says, “Then we’ll be rid of him forever and the world will be made of rainbows and happiness for the rest of eternity.”

“Sounds good.”

Ivan isn’t sure whether Yao hears his mumbled response underneath the covers, but he listens to Yao talk and talk and talk about exorcism and poltergeists and snow for what feels like hours, until the sounds merge and lull him to sleep. He’s fairly certain Yao keeps talking after that, too.


	3. scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubious chapter title link the second.
> 
> You can tell how much planning went into this.

It is two o'clock in the afternoon in Moscow, on a cold winter day with snow piled across the streets and hanging thickly from the trees, when Ivan finds himself hidden around the corner of a building listening to the conversation Yao has started.

Alfred Jones doesn't know he's here. Alfred Jones thinks he's alone with a fellow ghost.

Ivan runs his fingers over the small metal chips in his pockets, across the groove in the surface that clicks them together and forms an exorcism circle around whatever spirit is unlucky enough to get caught. It’s ridiculous, but he’s prepared.

"So how long you been kickin' around again?" Alfred's voice rings out, loud and clear and American.

"Oh, I don't know," Yao replies, "couple of decades? Not anything big."

"A couple of _decades_?! What, so like, you're an old man? How'd you not get caught yet?!"

"I'm just smart about it."

"Jesus Christ, that’s insane."

Alfred begins asking if Yao's ever considered learning to turn into a poltergeist, and Ivan steps out from his hiding place and claps the chips together before Alfred has a chance to react - the ghost spins around and a brief look of almost comical surprise crosses his face before it’s too late.

Yao salutes him, stepping away from the circle, and Ivan says the little Latin exorcism chant and Alfred’s form shatters into hundreds of icy, glowing shards, filling the circle with half-formed images.

Exorcism takes seconds to perform - it’s just catching the ghost in the first place that’s difficult. There’s a reason the ghost chasers are named as such, Ivan likes to think.

He stands back as little memories from Alfred’s life fill the circle he made, snapshots of people Alfred knew and places Alfred had been. There’s a lot of a young boy with the same face as Alfred, only softer, and a lot of an older man with expensive-looking clothes and very prominent eyebrows. Ivan points to a few of the images and turns to Yao. “Who do you think they are?”

Yao pauses for a moment, before shrugging. “I don’t know. Probably Alfred’s father, and maybe a brother. He looked too young to have a son that age.”

Ivan nods, eyeing the fading pictures of the boy. “Yeah. I wonder why he didn’t have any memories of his brother grown-up, though.”

“Maybe he died before he grew up.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Eventually the memories fade and the circle retreats, leaving only a dull mark in the tiles, and Ivan drops the metal chips back into his pockets. It would be an understatement to say he’s surprised they actually managed to exorcise Alfred Jones - the ghost chasers have been after him for months, but today he and Yao just caught him and finished him off in less than five minutes. Yao often goes on about how the ghost chasers would be a much better organisation if they let sensible ghosts into their ranks to help them, but Ivan hasn’t considered it much before now.

With Yao there, Alfred had let his guard down, just assuming it was a friendly conversation with a ghost like him - and that distraction had allowed Ivan to surprise him before he could get away.

Last night it was mostly a joke, suggesting to exorcise Alfred Jones, but here they are having actually _succeeded_.

He looks at Yao, who is watching him with a triumphant, expectant sort of stare, and finally gives in. “All right, I agree with you. You’re good at this.”

“Thank you,” Yao replies, “Do you also agree now that the ghost chasers would be much better off using actual ghosts rather than relying on their useless sight?” He rises off the ground to match Ivan’s height again and leans in, smiling in a proud way that reflects how much he knows he’s right.

“I guess,” Ivan says, a little more begrudgingly than before, and he resists the urge to pout as Yao grins. “Although if I took you to the ghost chasers they’d just exorcise you on the spot.”

He imagines the scene - _a chaser has been keeping a ghost hidden to prevent its exorcism, this is an offence to the order of the ghost chasers_ \- and something inside him lets off a cold spark of something unpleasant.

To the ghost chasers, Yao will have overstayed his welcome by a good forty years already.

Ivan stopped trying to tell Yao this ages ago, though, because Yao doesn’t care - he is stubborn and never listens. He always acts as if he doesn’t care for his existence in the slightest, as if he’s too arrogant to even consider the possibility he’s in danger from the people Ivan works with, and the sometimes whole situation makes him uncomfortable. He just wishes Yao would be a bit more careful sometimes - he doesn’t want to lose Yao like he did General Winter.

With General Winter, he could accept it - because he wasn’t attached to him like he is to Yao.

“Do you ever think about your actions or are you just not scared of exorcism?” he asks haltingly, after a pause. Yao floats away slightly, his grin fading. “You do know once you’re exorcised from this plane that’s it? You can’t come back, ever?”

“Of course I know that,” Yao replies, and shrugs nonchalantly. Something about his careless demeanour sparks something angry inside Ivan’s being. “I’m just not worried about it. I’ve been here for fifty years and they’ve never caught me, and besides, I’ve already died once. There’s not really much left to lose.”

Something about the way he throws away everything he has right now lights the spark of anger into a hurt, betrayed little flame.

“You don’t have much left to lose?” Ivan echoes, frowning, unable to stop himself spitting out words and watching Yao’s expression of disinterest shift into surprise, “Do ghosts not have feelings or do I just not matter to you as much as I thought I did?”

“Ivan-” Yao begins, “That’s- not what I meant-”

“That’s what it sounded like.”

“You know I wouldn’t say that, I...” Yao looks away, glancing towards the high street at the end of their small road, and sighs, sinking towards the ground slightly. “I _meant_ , I’ve already died once and I’ve already lost my family and my livelihood once. That’s it.”

Ivan stays silent. It’s surprising how fast the mood changed, almost as fast as Alfred Jones got ripped from this plane of being.

“Besides, have you ever stopped to consider how unnatural _this_ is?” Yao continues, gesturing between them, “I’m not trying to say I don’t want it, but you have to admit it’s not exactly _normal_ , not even among people who can see ghosts.” He catches Ivan’s gaze and locks it there, forcing Ivan to look into his eyes.

Ghost’s eyes are strange, Ivan thinks, usually they are blank and ugly and soulless but Yao’s are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He feels his expression softening and is powerless to stop it.

He does not want to lose Yao, he thinks, so the only thing he’s going to do is keep him hidden. The rule doesn’t matter as long as nobody knows.

A small, unreadable smile pulls at Yao’s lips, and Ivan mirrors the look despite some small part of him wanting to still be angry. “That’s never bothered me,” he says.

After a thoughtful pause, Yao finally replies, “Yeah, me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :V


	4. beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say, thank you to Mimizuku9 for posting the links to this on the RoChu tumblr!! I know I've already thanked you but I need to make sure everyone's heard of your name.  
> Go and read all of their RoChu if you haven't already, I don't think you'll regret it.

There are particular lights, Ivan has found, that just make ghosts look disgusting.

It is late in the afternoon, nearing the end of the twilight hours, and Ivan is impatient to go home to Yao after a day of chasing ghosts. The rush of Alfred Jones’ exorcism is gone, vanished the moment the ghost chaser guild turned to him with suspicious stares this morning, voices insultingly incredulous as they asked whether he was telling the truth - _you seriously want us to believe you just ‘happened upon him’? After we’ve been after him for so many months?_

He hasn’t been in a good mood all day, and he is not in one now when he watches Toris Laurinatis pull an exorcism circle around the ghost of a middle-aged woman they’ve been following for the past few hours. In the half-light of a November evening, the pale glow of the ghost doesn’t look magical anymore, it just looks _ugly_. Ugly and cloudy and thick, nothing like the sparkling, clean shine that Ivan is used to. He doesn’t know whether it’s just the time of day, or the still-warming streetlights casting red light down at them, but whatever it is it’s not nice.

The ghost isn’t helping either, twisting her face into ghastly expressions of anger as Toris says the Latin chant and she blows up in front of them.

Ivan watches her memories spring up, the pictures painted in dull colours almost as ugly as her spirit, and when he gets bored of them he turns to the ghost chaser next to him. Toris hasn’t been in the ranks long, having joined just after the hunt for Alfred Jones began, and he is quiet and nervous, always running a hand through his too-long hair or fiddling with his thumbs or dodging eye contact. Ivan likes him, even if he is a little jumpy - sometimes his docility is refreshing compared to Yao’s cocky arrogance.

He sighs, and Ivan asks him what’s wrong. There is a pause as Toris pockets the small exorcism chips again. “I just... hate ghosts.”

“Do you?” Ivan asks, an image of Yao flashing through his thoughts. He must have sounded more surprised than he wanted to because Toris takes a few quick steps away and hastily apologises for nothing.

“Well, I don’t- I’m sorry, that was probably a- hate is a strong word, I know.” He laughs nervously, runs a hand through his hair, rubs the back of his neck, dodges Ivan’s eye contact. “Sorry.”

“No, that’s fine,” Ivan replies, “I guess there is something nasty about them.”

He thinks of Yao again.

“I’m not sure there’s anyone who could say they wholly _like_ ghosts,” he adds.

He watches the pictures from the woman’s life fade, thinks of Yao, isn’t sure why he’s agreeing with Toris.

***

“Have fun killing ghosts?” Yao asks.

“No, not really,” Ivan replies. “You always ask that.”

“I’m waiting for the day you’ll say _yes_.”

They shrug to each other rather than say anything else, a lazy way of ending the conversation. Ivan walks over to his bed, kicks his boots off, collapses in a heap on the duvet, and the whole time he keeps thinking about how Toris outright said he _hated ghosts_ \- and how he agreed.

He doesn’t hate ghosts.

Even when he was little he didn’t hate ghosts - he found them fascinating, a mystery that only he could solve. He has never hated ghosts, far from it.

He looks over to Yao, floating gently and looking out at the street below, and as quietly as he can, sits up and crawls across his bed to reach the light switch. The moment the lights go out he falls back to the same position he was in before, lying sprawled out on his bed with his scarf lying on his chest and his head turned to the window.

Yao spins around to see what’s going on - and Ivan thinks, _this_ light, this is the one that he likes the most.

It is dark outside, but the white moonlight on a clear winter night is shining perfectly through the window and illuminating the icy glow surrounding Yao’s shape. It looks ethereal, magical, like a ghost should look, better than a ghost should look, and Ivan briefly wonders if the ghost Toris exorcised today could ever look as beautiful as Yao does now. He quickly decides it would be impossible, there is nothing in the world that could surpass the ghost of Yao Wang.

Except for his real, physical body, Ivan thinks, but pushes the idea away.

A small part of him thinks about holding Yao’s real hand, running his fingers through his real hair.

“What?” Yao says eventually. His look of surprise is perfect.

“You’re really beautiful,” Ivan replies.

Yao visibly falters, blinking in the darkness as he tries to think of something to say, and Ivan is unable to resist a smile. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says, “Just stay there and let me look.”

In this light, the cold light of the moon, Yao’s entire form looks like it could be sparkling. Some poetic thought of Ivan’s likens him to a god, a goddess, something far more incredible than just a ghost, some higher being that Ivan doesn’t deserve to have - but _has_ , incredibly, incomprehensibly, has.

He thinks about the old photographs on the internet, taken with old cameras and printed with old printers, of Yao in the 1960s, in the few years before he died. Every time he looks at them it reminds him of how he should not know Yao Wang, should not be talking to him - should not be able to talk to him, but here he is. It reminds him of just how incredible what he has is.

He wonders if Toris Laurinatis would call it incredible or disgusting, if he was to say he was in love with a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we observe the introduction of Lithuania - it's still RoChu, though, don't worry. I don't have the guts to write RusLiet. Particularly since this is for RoChu week.
> 
> edit: i just realised i missed out an 'a' somewhere in here and i just  
> proofreading exists for a reason


	5. laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure I really set myself up the most efficiently for this prompt. Ah well, I dug myself into this hole and I'm going to go with it.
> 
> I know you need your daily installation of unwanted Lithuania in a RoChu fic, too, so don't worry - *finger guns* I got you covered.

A few weeks later, Ivan finds himself without classes or ghost chaser duties, so he decides to sit around on the internet in his room for the entire day. Yao goes out in the morning, wherever he goes - Ivan doesn’t really know, he’s been meaning to ask but has never got round to it - and Ivan is just finding some lunch when Yao returns.

Yao appears through the door, loudly proclaiming his arrival, and upon seeing Ivan with a slice of toast and a bottle of vodka, remarks, “That had better not be your lunch today or I promise I will risk getting classified as a poltergeist to wreak havoc on your life.”

Ivan is not sure where to begin. Yao’s hard to argue with when he gets like this - especially when he gets like this and the reason concerns food.

“It’s your lunch, isn’t it?” Yao continues, and Ivan nods more sheepishly than he’d like to. “That is disgusting. It’s an insult to the culinary world. Put that away, eat something real, this is an important meal of the day and I will not stand for you eating _toast_ and _vodka_ for your lunch.”

“I don’t really want to make something real.”

“Go out, then. Restaurants exist.”

“I don’t have the money for that.”

“You’re right, you don’t. Sandwiches exist.”

Ivan drags himself to his feet and puts the vodka back in the freezer, leaning to get out of Yao’s way when the ghost floats over to inspect the food supplies currently in his room. “Actually,” Yao says, “Sandwiches won’t do either. Go out and buy ingredients and I’ll teach you how to cook. You don’t have classes today, do you?”

Ivan shakes his head, and before he knows it he’s outside his front door with his coat half-on walking to a store, listening to Yao list off things he’ll need. The clear sky outside gives the illusion of being warm, but the air is sharp and cold, and Ivan pulls his scarf a little bit tighter around his neck.

“Cold?” Yao asks, floating ahead of him and dodging a man walking past them, “You living people are so fragile and weak. You have to eat, sleep, maintain a particular body temperature - it’s much more convenient being a ghost.”

Ivan almost replies - except then realises he’s in public with people surrounding him, and is forced to settle with a smile behind the fabric of his scarf.

They reach a relatively cheap supermarket and Yao more or less drags Ivan around the shop, pointing to things, making off-handed comments about the price of everything these days, telling Ivan why this one particular brand of flour is a complete rip-off and he should not buy it, ever. Ivan wonders exactly how long it’s been since he’s got to talk to someone in a situation like this.

“Oh- Ivan.”

Ivan spins around upon hearing his name from a voice that’s too soft to be Yao’s, and finds Toris Laurinatis stood next to him, looking up at him with wide eyes. His nose and ears and cheeks are red with cold. “Hello, Toris. I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Yes, I, uh- I ran out of bread and I couldn’t really do without it, so...” Toris trails off and his gaze darts behind Ivan’s shoulder for a brief second, before he glances at the people around them in the shop, then at the floor. “I’m guessing you don’t have any duty today either.”

“No,” Ivan replies, “I don’t.”

He begins to turns around, to where Toris was looking - and remembers that Yao is right behind him, watching their conversation with furtive glances and pretending to run a finger absent-mindedly along the shelf.

He turns back to Toris and tries to keep his expression as straight as possible. If Toris were to ask questions now-

Toris stays silent, glancing at Yao, glancing at Ivan - his expression says he saw them. Saw Yao talking, saw Ivan listening, paying attention, picking up whatever Yao asked him to get.

“I, um...” he begins.

Ivan remembers that Toris Laurinatis hates ghosts.

“Was it you who cleared up the Alfred Jones case?” Toris asks, frowning slightly. Glancing at Yao again.

“Yes, that was me,” Ivan replies. Toris looks up at him, an expression that Ivan can only call unease beginning to paint his face.

“That’s amazing, I don’t... that’s good. That’s really good.” Toris looks over his shoulder, at the entrance, and gives Ivan a shaky smile. Ivan pretends he doesn’t notice his gaze flit to where Yao has wandered across the aisle. “I’ll be going, then. I’ve got what I wanted, so, uh...”

“Bye,” Ivan says, giving him a little wave, and watches him quickly turn tail and run.

Yao floats over and pulls a face, glancing at the basket of things Ivan has managed to gather. “Wow, what was _his_ problem?” he says, more to himself than anyone else. “Well, I think we’ve got everything we need. Let’s go pay and then I’ll see how desperate your cooking skills are.”

***

It does not take many minutes of Yao attempting to instruct Ivan to cook for them to both be falling around laughing.

Ivan is not a bad cook - he used to bake cakes with his sisters all the time before he went to university. It’s just that after he arrived at university he just sort of stopped having time to cook an actual meal.

As a result, everything Yao tells him to do, Ivan does with about a fifty percent chance of success, and every time something goes wrong Yao throws his hands into the air as if praying to a god that he’ll somehow gain the ability to touch things again, just so he can take over Ivan’s cooking for him. When he was alive, Yao says, he was a very good chef and he cooked for all of his siblings every day before he left for Russia, and then in Moscow he would sometimes cook for all the students on his floor. He describes the events with the same arrogant pride he always talks about his life in, except Ivan detects a small but solid note of regret in his voice.

He doesn’t ask, though - ghosts are regretful by nature. Particularly those who died young.

Yao is one of the least vile, least depressed ghosts he’s ever met, though. _The_ least vile and depressed ghost he’s ever met - that’s how it was possible for Ivan to get so attached to him.

Somehow, as Yao pretends to sit on the counter and holds his head in his hands in despair, Ivan manages to produce something surprisingly much better than the sandwiches and pizza and vodka he’s been filling mealtimes with for the past few years. He makes sure to gloat to Yao about it - _look, I am better at cooking than you said I am_.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever. I’m not the one who has to eat.” Yao jumps off the counter and floats over to the desk that Ivan has sat down at, choosing to just hover in the air a few inches above the ground.

“Do you miss eating?” Ivan asks.

“Yes,” Yao replies, without any hesitation. “Yes, I do, I miss food a lot. Don’t eat in front of me. I still stand by what I said earlier - I’ll become a bitter and angry poltergeist and ruin your life if you do.”

He is smiling as he says it, though, and Ivan laughs, “All right, then. Go and ruin your heart out.”

“Oh, you’d really let me do that? I’m honoured, thank you.”

They fall quiet for a few seconds, and then Ivan cannot stop himself anymore and breaks into a wide, happy grin, that Yao does not hesitate to join in with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thing, I've been meaning to do this for a while - because there's some background stuff that I wouldn't have been able to get into the actual story without ruining everything. I should probably have done this sooner, to be honest.
> 
> First things first, exorcism. As far as the ghost chasers' knowledge goes, there is no further realm for ghosts after exorcism. It's just the end for them.
> 
> Second thing, poltergeists. In this AU, the word "poltergeist" is a special class of ghost used by the ghost chasers for two types of spirits. The first type is normal ghost that is just abnormally aggressive and irritating, and the second type is a ghost that can touch physical objects.  
> Research into these hasn't really taken off properly, but for some reason there are a few ghosts every now and then that can interact with physical matter, and naturally these are the ghosts that cause the most problems - as they can break things, move things, mess with real people, whatever you can really think of.  
> Even without this ability, though, it's still possible for a ghost to cause a good amount of havoc, which is why if they get annoying enough they're still classed as poltergeists. Alfred Jones was one of these, although he was convinced he was "teaching himself" to be the other type. There is one of the second type mentioned in this fic, although it's in the last chapter so not yet haha.
> 
> Finally, Yao is, evidently, not the second type of poltergeist - he's not a poltergeist at all. Wouldn't it be nice if he was, though ;)?


	6. rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, I had issues with this. I still have issues with it, but there we go. Not much I can do about that now haha.
> 
> It's always right as I post that I suddenly think of 138894529734107017 other ways I could have done this. I tend to take things in a weird direction.
> 
> But on another note, a quick thing - the ghost chasers estimate how long ghosts have been around by reported sightings. So even if they haven't seen a particular ghost for forty years the reported sighting from 1970 will be enough to determine whether they're overstaying their welcome or not when and if the next sighting is reported. This is what's happened in Yao's case - he's managed to avoid being sighted for a long time so was somewhat off the radar until now. Of course, Ivan did not report it when he saw him again.

When Ivan leaves the ghost chaser headquarters, it is raining heavily, and a bitter smile reaches his lips as he thinks about how fitting the downpour is. It seems like only yesterday he was smiling and laughing and joking - at the same time it feels like a lifetime away.

He has just been accused of failure to report a ghost sighting. He has just been accused of harbouring a ghost in his apartment, hiding it from the ghost chasers. He has just been accused of helping a ghost suspected to be more than thirty years in the plane, well over the preferred limit. He has just been accused of major offence against the order.

He thinks it might be Toris Laurinatis’ doing, too.

It might not be, he wants to say, Toris is nice and wouldn’t ever do something like that. Besides, all he saw was Ivan passively being friendly towards a ghost - that isn’t enough to accuse anyone of a major offence.

That _shouldn’t_ be enough to accuse anyone of a major offence.

But it is, apparently, and Ivan can’t exactly try to tell anyone it isn’t. He can only do something else about it.

Ivan wonders where Yao has been, when he’s not in his room with him.

He doesn’t have an umbrella or even a waterproof coat, so by the time he’s stepped outside for more than a few seconds he is soaked through and freezing cold. The sooner he gets home, the better - although the thought of seeing Yao again-

“What are you doing here?”

He’s said it before he’s thought it through properly, faced with the exact ghost he was preparing to see at his apartment - the exact ghost he has been accused of harbouring and assisting. “You shouldn’t be here, someone might see you.”

Yao frowns, slightly taken aback. “What? Ivan, what happened?”

Ivan opens his mouth, pauses for one second of wet, frozen silence, then he closes it again and shakes his head. Part of him wants to tell Yao everything, to tell Yao that he needs to run before the ghost chasers catch him, before the people Ivan has worked alongside for years take away one of the most important parts - _the_ most important part - of his life.

“Let’s go somewhere else, okay?” Yao says, his tone unnervingly soft - he must have seen the look on Ivan’s face. “You’re going to catch a cold in this rain.”

***

They end up on the university site, hiding under a tree in a courtyard - the same courtyard they met in, Ivan realises. He had let Yao take him away from the ghost chaser headquarters and hadn’t thought about where they were going. It’s almost a bittersweet kind of surprise ending up here.

“I’ll ask again,” Yao says, “What happened, Ivan?”

Ivan is quiet for a moment, before he looks at the courtyard surrounding him, at the beautiful ghost in front of him, and explains everything. Everything about how he was accused of protecting an overstaying spirit, hiding them, befriending them, breaking natural order - all of it comes out, and he watches Yao’s expression change from that of soft concern to shock and what he might call disgust.

He talks about how they even turned Alfred Jones against him - _there’s no way a single chaser could catch a ghost like Alfred Jones, no matter how skilled they are. You have to have had some outside help, and as none of our ranks were with you, it is a reasonable assumption that the very same ghost you have been conspiring with assisted you -_ and he hopes Yao understands now why he’s always tried to say the ghost chasers can’t have ghosts in their ranks.

When he’s finished, he looks away, and there are a few moments of silence before Yao says, “I didn’t know the ghost chasers were so totalitarian you’re not even allowed to _speak_ to us.”

Ivan just shakes his head. He has to consciously stop himself from biting his lip as Yao continues, “I guess there are two kinds of people in this world.”

Did Ivan know what they’d do? He did. He did know what they’d do if they ever knew of Yao Wang, he knew exactly what they’d do.

“And am I supposed to do something about it?” Yao asks, raising his eyebrows, “What am _I_ meant to do? Leave?”

Ivan doesn’t say anything.

Yao frowns almost instantly, recoiling slightly, his tone painfully incredulous as he adds, “Wait- are you serious?”

Something inside Ivan wants to be angry - of course Yao is going to be stubborn and arrogant, now of all times - but he can’t do it. Perhaps he’s too busy forcing himself to do this. There is not a single nerve in his entire body that wants to lose Yao now, but he’s been driven to the conclusion that perhaps asking him to leave really is the only way to keep him. Ironically.

But is it really?

There isn’t time to think of something better. The ghost chasers could be on Yao’s tail by tomorrow. Possibly tonight, depending.

He wonders how he didn’t see it before - why on _earth_ would he ever go out in broad daylight, talking to Yao where any old ghost chaser could see? Why would he ever work with a ghost to exorcise Alfred Jones outside of the ghost chasers’ command? Why did he ever join the ghost chasers in the first place?

Yao begins to say something else but Ivan cuts him off. “Don’t be offended.”

“I’m not offended.” Yao’s reply is quick and quiet, almost a whisper.

“They’ll probably watch me for interactions with ghosts. I don’t think I’m safe to be around - they’ll find you before you even have a chance if you stay here.”

Yao looks like he wants to tell Ivan that he’s better than they are, that he’s survived fifty years of ghost chasers, that Ivan needs to believe in him more. Perhaps Ivan does - perhaps Yao really _is_ better than the ghost chasers that hate him so much.

It’s a chance, though, one that maybe he shouldn’t take. He should have learned his lesson from General Winter.

He briefly imagines the scene of an exorcism, with still memories of Yao’s brothers and parents and country floating in the air, and something about it tells him that he is far, far too attached to Yao to see him die. _That’s_ why he has to do this now, while he can. “I don’t mind where you go, just... don’t get caught.”

He falls quiet, and Yao stares at him for a few moments - he looks at the pale colours shifting through Yao’s eyes, a beautiful dry rainbow. Yao sighs and glances away, frowning, before he looks back to Ivan. “You really have that little faith in me, huh?”

He is smiling, though, a small, reserved smile, and Ivan feels his own face twisting to match it. He lets out a short, breathy laugh, and Yao shakes his head slightly, adding a tiny, almost inaudible, “Fine.”

Ivan looks him in the eye and musters up every ounce of gratitude in his body, concentrates it into his gaze - he's surprised Yao's not trying to argue more - and Yao continues, “You’re overreacting, but fine. I’ll go somewhere else for a few weeks.”

Yao keeps shaking his head, almost exasperatedly, still smiling, and before he has really thought it through Ivan hears himself say, “I love you.”

There is a quiet pause, and Yao studies Ivan’s face with his beautiful flat, dark eyes for a few long moments. He raises his hand - and Ivan becomes dimly aware of it moving towards him - and carefully brushes the backs of his fingers across Ivan’s cheek.

Ivan suppresses the urge to shiver.

Yao’s fingers are cold, like a crisp winter breeze in the air - but they don’t _touch_ Ivan’s face. They’re there but not _there_ , like a perfect dream that someone might suddenly wake up from and realise wasn’t reality and wish to go back to. Not for the first time Ivan finds himself unable to stop wondering what Yao’s real touch is like.

“I won’t get exorcised,” Yao says quietly. His hand falls from Ivan’s face and falls slack at his side. “You really don’t need to worry. I promise.”

Ivan supposes he’ll never know what Yao’s physical touch is like - _was_ like, some miserable part of him corrects - and as Yao gestures for them to begin walking home through the thinning rain, he realises that this might be the very last he’ll ever see of Yao Wang.

He desperately hopes it isn’t.


	7. nostalgia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Am I allowed to do this in a RoChu week prompt? *looks around nervously* Are the RoChu police going to come for me??

Ivan’s not sure what he was expecting, really.

No ghost lasts forever - that’s a fact. One day, no matter how long they’ve already lasted, someone will find them and exorcise them; it’s just a part of the existence of ghosts that has to be accepted. Ivan accepted that, he accepted it when General Winter was exorcised. He shouldn’t have expected more than that of Yao.

But he _did_ , and the morning after their conversation, Yao is gone from his apartment. When he gets back that evening, Yao is still gone. Two days later and Yao hasn’t returned.

A week later, Ivan has had the ghost chasers constantly breathing down his neck but has not even glimpsed Yao, anywhere in the city.

He reminds himself that he did this for Yao, that it’s the best thing to do. It doesn’t stop him telling himself he is awfully, cripplingly lonely - but he pretends it helps.

He thinks about how Yao said he’d go somewhere else for a few weeks, wonders if that means he intends to return. He promised, didn't he?

A month later, after the loss of Yao Wang has sort of just begun to painfully settle, Ivan gets a phone call from his older sister Katyusha and he arranges to go and stay at his parents’ house for the holiday season that’s coming up. He jumps at the chance, to get away from this apartment, this empty space that something in him is still waiting for Yao to fill. His sisters will take his mind off everything, he’s sure.

When he arrives at his parents’ house, sees his family, catches up with them, they ask what’s happened in his life recently and he finds himself thinking of Yao.

“Nothing, really,” he says, “Just classes and stuff.”

He helps his sisters bake, the next morning at his parents’ house, and it reminds him of how they used to do the same when they were little. It’s the first fun thing he’s done for a while now - but Natalya sets the finished cake down on the table a few hours later and Ivan remembers Yao trying to get him to cook.

And somewhere along the way, Ivan realises he will never stop thinking of Yao and that’s kind of how loss works.

Eventually he leaves his parents’ house and goes back to his apartment, begins his ghost chaser duties again. He is suddenly taken off watch, allowed back into the ranks, and he pretends it doesn’t bother him - they were so suspicious before. It’s almost as if nothing ever happened, almost.

He searches up Yao’s case on the internet again one night, reads through the facts he’s already read hundreds of times over but can’t stop reading. Yao was twenty when he died, his next eldest brother fifteen.

How old would that make Kiku now - sixty-something?

And Yao would be in his seventies, if he had lived.

Ivan wonders what Yao’s siblings did with their lives - Yao used to talk about them sometimes, his four younger brothers and one younger sister. They’ll all have wives and husbands and children and maybe even grandchildren too by now.

He wonders about it, and then closes the tab and shuts down his laptop and leaves his apartment and tries not to think about Yao, until one day when he is out on duty with Toris Laurinatis.

Ivan is unable to resist asking if Toris has heard anything about Yao Wang since he reported him to the ghost chasers, and Toris freezes to the spot for a few moments.

“Is that the ghost that you...?” Toris begins, but cuts himself off when he glances up and nearly catches Ivan’s gaze. “Uh... I think he was- I don’t know. He hasn’t been mentioned for at least a month now. He might have been exorcised- I mean, he might- not have been, but...”

Ivan’s not sure what he expected, really.

Toris apologises, and it’s strange to hear him apologise for the exorcism of a ghost when Ivan knows that he hates every single lingering spirit wandering this city.

“He died in the 1960s,” Ivan says suddenly, and Toris immediately stops talking. He’s not sure what he’s saying anymore, not fully in control of his words. “He was our age, beaten to death by his classmates with a metal pipe. We never worked out whether it was because he looked like a girl or because he was Chinese.”

Toris opens his mouth but seems lost for words.

“Did you ever see him?” Ivan asks. When Toris hesitantly shakes his head, he feels a small smile tug at his face. “Ah. He was beautiful.”

He wonders if Yao went back to China to find his family. He could have done that. Would he ever come back to Moscow if he found his family in China again?

Are there ghost chasers in China?

He thinks about Yao, floating in front of the window, watching the snow fall outside, and wonders whether Toris would still hate ghosts if he had been there, spoken to the ghosts Ivan has. “Why do you hate ghosts?”

“I...” Toris begins - his voice cracks and he pauses, running a hand through his hair, searching for a reason. “I... don’t know, I just...”

“You shouldn’t hate ghosts,” Ivan says.

“I’m sorry,” Toris apologises.

Ivan isn’t going to stop thinking of Yao, isn’t going to start hating ghosts - so perhaps he should use that to his advantage. At least until- if- until Yao comes back. “I’m going to teach you to like them.”

“What?”

“I’m going to teach you to like ghosts.”

Toris does not reply, and Ivan looks at him and smiles. Yao liked teaching, didn’t he? He tried to teach Ivan to cook. This is what Yao would do in this situation. “Okay?”

“O-okay, but I don’t-”

“It’ll work. You don’t need to hate them. You shouldn’t hate them.”

Toris shouldn’t have hated Yao, either. “I’m sorry- okay.”

Toris looks at him, properly meets his gaze for the first time in a long while, and Ivan smiles again and thinks of Yao. “Let’s go and chase some ghosts, then.”

***

Toris crashes rather unceremoniously through the door of Ivan’s apartment at a surprisingly late hour of the evening, after a night of running around chasing a young Polish poltergeist that recently showed up in the area. For the first time in a while, it hasn’t been snowing recently, but the air still has a crisp, biting sort of chill to it and it isn’t nice to be out in for long.

He begins to pull his coat off, reaching to unpin the pink 13th birthday badge that Feliks the Polish poltergeist thought it would be fun to put there - why can they touch things? Some poltergeists are a mystery even to the ghost chasers - and eventually turns to the other person in the room.

Ivan is sat at his desk with his laptop open, displaying some kind of old-looking webpage that seems to have been forgotten about the moment he heard Toris arriving. He has spun around on the desk chair to face the door, watching with a cheerful gaze as he waits for Toris to hang his coat up.

“Have fun killing ghosts?” he asks.

“What?” Toris replies.

Ivan smiles, letting out a small laugh, and replies, “You’re supposed to say ‘ _no, not really_ ’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cringy title drop and second chapter drop check because we all need some of that in our lives from time to time. (I've technically been relentlessly title dropping throughout the whole thing but we don't discuss that.)
> 
> but what happened to the RoChu this was supposed to be RoChu I don't understand it doesn't make any sense I
> 
> Anyway fun fact for you - in all 7 chapters (not including the summary/title and notes), the word "ghost" (and variants like plurals) was used 117 times. That's a lot, considering there were only 40 instances of "chase(r)(s)". Time to expand my vocabulary.
> 
> And finally, there we have the end of RoChu week! It was fun, even if I did forget the meaning of RoChu halfway through!! I'm just going to go back to my corner and think about what I've done while I wait for more RoChu opportunities.
> 
> I still stand by the previous statement I had here - comments are a thing that I like even if I forget to reply to them haha. If you have nothing to say feel free to just say "hi" or something? I'll be just as happy.


End file.
